lights, camera, action!

i am a candid facade—

i am no longer the crashing wreck

portrayed in movies and books

bleeding out question marks and

bad decisions to the open ocean

.

i am the jaunt in your sunday steps

and the gaily tip of your hats

and a million dollar movie star

with the confident mouth and purple hair

.

i am a candid facade—

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

i am dissociated from all my

failures and collapses, from my

depression and desperation,

.

from me, from myself, from i;

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

.

until i am not becomes i am me.

fac[ad]e

hold it

together

and keep a

straight face

and just

remember

to set the

right pace

keep yourself

calm and

promise that

you’re sober

and maybe

soon enough

it will all

be over.

i’ve got a rusty crowbar to your arms that says you won’t do a damn thing

Let’s have no sadness, furrowed brow
There’s nothing new in dying now
Though living is no newer
Though living is no newer
And it was written in blood…

~*~

everyone’s doing it

it’s the latest thrill

set up sanity in rivets

for the latest pitiful kill

it makes you special

oh, ain’t you so brave

got miracles to pay for

and sins at the nave

got a little peach mark

and that fool’s little smile

hey trooper, you did it

you’re unique for a while

but blood doesn’t last

and fiction is just fiction

say that it stays forever

as you conjure up emotion

faker than those tears

sweet as your death breath

facade made for bitching

to write about yourself

but hey, get the comedown

and sleep the sorry away

it’s suicide season, baby

and you’re the latest trophy

everyone’s doing it

it’s the latest fucking bore

‘cause what’s a better fashion

than the sleeves you wore?

~*~

Like roses, we blossom then die
Like roses, we fall apart, like roses, we fall apart
Though living is no newer, though living is no newer
It was written in blood on a fucking suicide note
The day before he died…

Of Broken Things and Missing Pieces

I am outside and I’ve been waiting for the sun
With my wide eyes
I’ve seen worlds that don’t belong
My mouth is dry with words I cannot verbalize
Tell me why we live like this…

~*~

Wide eyes, broken fingers, dry mouth fermenting

Flickering lights, damaged windows, keep on screaming

Restore, repair, recover, relapse, and repeat

Picking out the sinews and shreds left in bared teeth

.

Bolted doors, hurt lies, forged padlocks keep away

The monsters with a good memory, even if only for a day

Adorn, adore, admire, abhor, again and again

Growing sick of the cracked facade that’s keeping it all in

.

Forsaken promises, empty scars, rhetoric brings back the dead

Lost cause, cynical hope, turned backs saying go ahead

Forgive, forget, falseness, falter, falling fast, oh fuck all this

Can’t save what doesn’t want to be, can’t put back what has a missing piece.

~*~

‘Cause we are broken
What must we do to restore
Our innocence
And oh, the promise we adored
Give us life again
‘Cause we just wanna be whole…

Senseless Serenades

I’m on my toes and there she goes again
The final throes of summer time well-spent
Oh, there she goes…

~*~

d ‘ e s t a t e

In summery throes

Cascading velvet sunlight

There she goes again.

~*~

n o t t e

Night vulnerably

Sordidness regulated

Finite fragile plea.

~*~

l a v a g n a

Chalk on his fingers

Her gold nickname erased

Dust faintly lingers.

~*~

e m i c r a n i a

Pained speculations

Of an acute sanity

Migraines imprisoned.

~*~

m e s s i c o

Little brown niño

In your red and green streamers

Where did your song go?

~*~

a u l a

Chewed pencaps clatter

Silence drowned by clamouring

Whispers in smatter.

~*~

l u n a  p a z z o

Moon rippling sullen

Weaving lunar tendencies

For one more madman.

~*~

i l  p u z z o n e

Dark dismal nexus

And violence infectious

Broke solar plexus.

~*~

z i t t i r e

Falsetto facade

Lips moving, but no sounds have

Reached beyond her veil.

~*~

a r m o n i a

Oh, dear harmony

When did you lose your aesthete

Into catastrophe?

~*~

Backseat serenade, dizzy hurricane
Oh god, I’m sick of sleeping alone
You’re salty on a summer day
Kiss the pain away to your radio…

Blood Clots and Black Holes

Here’s your new drug, shoot it in the left eye
Feel it on the right side, no it’s not love
Though it sets up shop behind your ribcage
Building blood clots and black holes
Like using an axe to pull a sliver from your skin…

~*~

Unresponsive desolation, paralysed in blood and cement

Reactions set to explode, evidences execution half-meant

Excerpts of a circumvented verse, misguided boundaries

Pulses worn, reciting reasons for the living in cemeteries

Incompatible, undesirable, infiltrate my cataclysmic rain

Under issued influences, heroin and butane shot for pain

Crashing manifestos, an intervention set to fucking burn

There’s no point to reflect if there’s nothing to be learned

Covenant of injuries, gregarious dimensions disembodied

Bedraggled carcass averting headlights, a contingency bid

Cold condescension will only covet unconsented concerns

Wasted like a question mark, duplicated hemispheres torn

Bullets traded for breathing soldiers, a parasitic symphony

Beneath the facade of a tranquil noir, an indelible calamity

Again the fugitives sink in violent vices, composed in ashes

My perverse altercation is but an alibi under my rotted flesh.

~*~

And they say this is medicine
An overdose of oxygen
A severed head as sedative
To be at peace would be a sin
And surely un-american
I’m breaking down…

dare to care, care to dare?

i know i’ll tell

them to please

just stay away

i know i’ll say

that i’m simply

fine and okay

but i’m a liar

even to myself

all these words

are so twisted

i’m a lone wolf

and eaten alive

buried under in

my own secrets

and sometimes i

just wish there’s

someone that can

see past the show

someone daring

enough to ask me

further, instead of

just letting it go.

What’s Her Name

She’s a rebel, she’s a saint
She’s the salt of the earth
And she’s dangerous
She’s a rebel, vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction…

~*~

She won’t leave until the lights turn red

Troublesome girl, rebelling past the bed

A softspoken tongue, serpentine temper

Stories of surprising anarchy and terror

A saint with horns, little girl with a knife

A lace veiled bride, a bruise beating wife

Rules don’t concern her, A-game’s about

Bosses and bitches, she can take ’em out

Perspectives changing as it tore the walls

I guess I never really knew that girl at all

Past her charming smile and demure eyes

The beast to be feared when unleashed lies.

~*~

She’s a rebel, she’s a rebel, she’s a rebel
And she’s dangerous!

H.appiness, E.nergy, L.ove, P.assion, ME.

Did someone turn the lights out
Or is it just another dark cloud in my head?
Cause I’m cut deep, my heart won’t beat
Deep down low it’s killing me
If I wanna scratch out yesterday
I’ve got so much I need to say…

~*~

Just how can you stop the loaded weapon

From being pulled, when the hair trigger

Is your own rapidly palpitating heart?

Oh shut up me, you don’t know any better,

But you wished that you did from the start.

Plastering hard concrete on your visage

To permanently solidify your playacted role

As the beast inside you sharpens its razor teeth

Screeching against your sandpaper rough soul

And those blinded idiots never quite knew

The shit storm you were really going through

Never saw that your mannequin plastic smile

Was too perfect, just too happy to be real

Calculated and practised to be worthwhile

That it radiates the hatred that you truly feel

And it’s killing you, you’re so sick of the disease

You’re weak, spineless, an apathetic neurotic

So damn useless, bitter as the coffee you dismiss

How can one be paralysed by being pathetic?

But hell, it’s just a stupid phase, isn’t it?

Can’t concern mom and dad with my bullshit

It’s just an angst desperation, demon arms race

Can’t bother my friends with the problems I face

Trying to convince yourself you won’t choke

As you wipe fingerprints off your bruised throat

Suffocation of a rapid fire oxygen evacuation

I’m happy, I’m happy, can’t you see my emotion?

The lights of the stars burrow under the moon

The shadows infect you with regal monster gloom

Glass exhibits of your blank face in the museum

They stuff and capture you, put you in the tomb

Another day of read lines, red lines on the wall

You don’t break your fall when that curtain falls

I’m not alone…I’m not alone…but…I’m lonely

I’m fighting, I’m fighting, and I’m losing badly.

And you raise your lacerated blue wrists again

Praying to the charcoal dark smoke of heaven

But the inky-black blood that is raining down

Is never enough for you to completely drown

Your voice splinters as you choke on your laugh

Judgement glaring through, you try to keep it up

But it’s not enough at all, no, it’s never enough…

No, you’re just never fucking enough.

~*~

I think I need help
Cause I’m drowning in myself
It’s sinking in, I can’t pretend
That I ain’t been through hell
I think I need help
I’m drowning in myself.

See Jane

Jane was taught many things throughout the course of her life. Jane was taught to be a good girl to mummy and daddy. Jane was taught to say her prayers and obey what she was told to do. Jane was taught to clean herself up and clean up after herself. Jane was taught to do her straight auburn hair up in ribbons and pigtails, polish her red maryjane shoes into a dazzling shine, and wear her best cotton pastel dresses. Jane was taught to walk with proper posture, smile gracefully, speak in a soft feminine voice, and to go about with tasks in an elegant finesse. Jane was taught to learn her academic lessons well at the private all-girls catholic school she was attending, and as well as her weekly lessons about faith and God at Sunday class in the town church. Jane was taught not to play too roughly, never to join the bad flock of black sheep, and to generally stay out of trouble. Jane was taught to be polite, friendly, amiable, and to be approachable and presentable. Simply put, Jane was trained to be a perfect girl, and she was taught to love it.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was the epitome of nice. Jane was the classic textbook example of the girl next door; charming, demure, a bonny maiden with a beautiful appearance and personality, living a scripted, sterile, storybook suburban life. Jane was a starchild, excelling in everything and anything, always at her best. Jane was sociable, had lots of friends and could easily make new acquaintances. In the morning, among the company of people, she was quite pleasant, a darling sweetheart in the glossed-over, uncrutinising eyes of the faceless neighbours. See Jane greet. See Jane traipse. See Jane dance. See Jane laugh. See Jane wave. See Jane smile. See Jane happy. But alas, that was the full extent of their limited perception. To them, Jane could be summed up in positive words less than three syllables long. They could never see the actual Jane, dark and complicated. They couldn’t glare past the cracks of the well-practised façade, and take a gander at the real version that’s not made of plastic skin and porcelain eyes, refusing to see the truth of the perfect girl that barely sleeps at night. See Jane depressed. See Jane grit her teeth. See Jane scream. See Jane self-harm. See Jane feel empty. See Jane strut mechanically. See Jane do drugs. See Jane muffle her crying on her pillow. See Jane as a complete fucking mess.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was taught many things in the course of her short life. Be this, be that, don’t do this, don’t do that, Jane never learned to think for herself. Simply put, Jane was brainwashed to be the perfect girl, and she absolutely hated it. In the end, it was not Jane with the fault, she was only the innocent victim. Rather, it was her guardians, her teachers, who missed a crucial lesson that might have saved Jane from self destruction. For Jane was only taught to exist, but she was never taught to live. Teeming alongside the controversy now, the very same life enveloping death that the multitudinous attendees are currently buzzing with. The haughty crowd, all clad in black garb, then proceeds to judge Jane with whispered huffs, gossiping under thin walls and blabbering behind paper fans hatefully, shaking their heads condescendingly with a chorus of tsk-tsk’s, saying stories and telling tall tales about how Jane was such an amazing girl, it’s such a waste Jane had to go this way, Jane always seemed cheerful and no one ever saw it coming, I remember that one time Jane…, Jane will be missed, nothing but senseless argot and unapologetic bereavement. Today, everyone mourned. But today, everyone also saw an accurate glimpse of Jane for the first time, and unfortunately, for the very last.

See Jane die.